


Memory of Thorns

by SilentWitness



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Abduction, Action, Adventure, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort, Confused Dwarves, Family Feels, Gen, Healing, Hobbit life lessons, Hurt/Comfort, Revenge, Time Travel, Trauma, and cuddles, caring Bilbo, family love, hopefully epic, or at least long, probably contains spoilers if you haven't read the books, remembering trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:59:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWitness/pseuds/SilentWitness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Healing is often a thicket of thorns; ugly, painful, tugging at you every way you turn, trying to keep you from moving forward.  Yet, when you finally make it through, the grass never seems greener nor the sky bluer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: "The time for rest has not yet come."

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit that I started this story for the sake of a single scene (which will appear in a future chapter), something that came into my head and wouldn't go away. It has started to flesh out into so much more.
> 
> I tend to write rather long chapters, so I apologize in advance if there is a significant wait for some in the future. However, I promise, I finish what I start, and hopefully if there is a wait, it'll be worth it.
> 
> The concept for the plot is not original, I'm afraid, but I hope I do it justice. Also, I am using a mix of book, movie and fan events/concepts, but I do tend to lean heavily on the books.

A strange sort of quiet stilled the air. Night-birds ceased their songs, frogs their croaks, crickets their chirrups. The night, which had just a moment before seemed as fluid as a living thing itself, became stone.

A hush overtook the camp of weary travelers. Bedded down for the evening, none had thought there to be much in the way of trouble. The great Evil had, after all, been thoroughly defeated. There was no shadow hanging about them any longer, no creatures of darkness at their heels. To be certain, evil still existed, as it always would, leading the weak of heart or spirit or mind to bring trouble to other beings, but in these days of victory, it was easy to forget such a thing. Their triumph, glorious for some and bittersweet for others, sung loud in their hearts, and quite without realizing it, they imagined all life bursting with the same relief.

So the sudden ominous stilling of the forest felt to all as a bucket of water from a January spring dumped straight upon their souls.

The small band was instantly alert and wary.

How unfair it seemed that they should have journeyed so far, gotten so close to home, only to be waylaid at this moment. After all they had seen, all they had done, they more than deserved to reach their home, to be welcomed back into their own warm hearths and to finally, comfortably, maybe get some rest.

But it was not to be.

It was not Uruk-hai that leapt from the shadows. Not orc, nor troll, nor even band of rogue men lay in wait for the unsuspecting passerby. 

It was not creature at all, in fact. It was light.

A very bright light rose from the stillness, lighting up the night as though it were day, a soft hum chasing away the silence.

The travelers had all risen now, but stood merely staring about them, not even reaching for their weapons. For what good would swords and arrows do against that which was not flesh and blood?

The light brightened quickly, and the hum grew louder, until the travelers were vainly shielding their eyes against being blinded, and covering their ears for fear they might burst. Just when they felt they could take no more, the crescendo faded and focused on the four smallest members of the group. The four had huddled together at the first signs of danger, and now stood as beacons in the center of the camp. The hum had softened again, and lilted through them, spinning a web about them.

The smallest of the four was also the oldest, and certainly the most weary. Now realization overtook him, and he felt a profound tiredness sweep his being. He sighed a sigh of defeat and anguish. As the hum about them ceased and the light faded, taking the four in its grip away with it, his soft, sad voice lingered as a ghost in the camp.

"The time for rest has not yet come."


	2. "I have learned nothing, perhaps, except that nothing is certain."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two timelines meet, and Galdalf shares sage words.

Now you might suspect that four creatures, whisked away into the unknown by force, would wake to their new surroundings in panic and fear. But hobbits, as may be known, are hardy, sound-minded little things whose practicality shines though when the sense of man would have wholly abandoned him. When they came to themselves again, the four little beings took stock of what was around them with more irritation than any other emotion.

They appeared to be in the very same forest which they had just been ripped away from. Though curiously their camp was missing, and there was no sign of the rangers whom the new king had commanded accompany them home. 

You can just bet that Frodo put up quite the protest when he had been told of their traveling companions. Why, he and Sam had managed all on their own to traverse right into the heart of their enemy's lands at the height of the greatest war hence known. Merry and Pippin too had had their share of adventuring on their own. And here they all were, ready to make one last journey home in relative peace. The flies on the wall had been thoroughly scandalized that day at the language Frodo had chosen to express his displeasure, but his friend would not be swayed. Aragorn had a debt to the small heroes that he knew he'd never be able to repay. What's more, he would not have his deep bonds with them broken for mishaps on the road. So he'd commissioned rangers to escort his friends safely anywhere they'd choose to go. They'd never lack for protectors, if he had any say in it. Seeing as he was now king, it just so happened that he did.

And so the four hobbits found themselves twelve traveling back to the Shire. If you suppose that a 3:1 ratio of protection is extreme, remember please that these particular hobbits were heroes of the highest honor. The king himself had made it a point to publicly bow to them, bestowing upon them an honor that had not been seen before, or if it had, had been lost to time. Certainly the rangers themselves held the small saviors in high regard, and it must be admitted that when the request had been made, there was much in-fighting among the rangers as to who would be allowed the privilege of traveling with them. They all wanted to be close to the hobbits, you see, so in this regard eight was quite a humble number to send along.

But eight men, even rangers, having packed up and left in a hurry would surely leave signs of their passing. Ashes from the fire, brush beaten down, holes in the mud where stakes had been driven in. There was nothing. To be sure, the woods were the same, every landmark in the correct place, but it was absolutely pristine. Untouched. As if no one had been in them for years. Puzzling it was to the adventurers, but not alarming.

It was decided that it would be necessary for them to do some exploring, try to figure out what had happened. Having gone now from the smallest to the tallest, and being knights of Rohan and Gondor besides, Merry and Pippin promptly decided that they would take the lead. So off the four went, making their way forward, picking their way through the brush, searching for any signs of the rangers. 

It must be admitted that nearly the day's journey later, the four hobbits had let down their guard. They had all been significantly changed by their adventures, but none more so than Frodo. The others all knew that he still suffered greatly; physically he still sported half-healed wounds, but his spirit was far more dangerously damaged. He carried an air of quiet desolation about him always, and sometimes seemed to be fading away, right before their eyes. So it hadn't been long before Merry and Pippin took up the charge, not for the first time, to cheer him up. 

It started with Pippin, whistling a soft tune as they marched along. When his tone rang sour, Merry bopped him over the head and stole the tune away, humming loudly so as to drown out Pippin's whistle. Not to be outdone, Pippin came back with words, piping out the rhymes over Merry's hums. Merry then upped the ante by abruptly changing the tune, briefly throwing Pippin for a loop until he caught the new tune and remembered the words. It then became the game for Merry to switch out the tunes he was humming frequently and randomly, leaving Pippin struggling to keep up. Eventually Pippin tried to take over, switching his own rhymes, but all he seemed to be succeeding in was increasing their volume, as Merry would not cooperate, and simply hummed louder. Finally they both happened to settle on the same song at the same time, one of Bilbo's walking songs. Frodo gave a small, happy sound at hearing it that so delighted his companions that all three settled to singing it in practiced harmony.

So you can imagine how badly startled they were as they found themselves surrounded by thirteen scowling dwarves. 

Merry and Pippin instantly tried to push Sam and Frodo between them as they stood back to back, weapons in hand, nervously looking about them. 

Pippin was the first to find his voice. "You... have you taken the rangers captive?"

The stocky dwarf nearest him raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Eh? What's this then? Us, stealin' men?"

"Well, then, what are you up to?" Pippin demanded, eliciting a groan from Merry, who didn't feel that antagonizing the dwarves was really the way to go.

"We know what we're up to," came to gruff voice of one of the other dwarves, "but what about you lot? What are you doin' out in these, here woods? Haven't you seen the goblins moorin' about?"

Frodo spoke up now, stepping away from his protectors as they grabbed at him to stop him. "We are simply traveling home. We were traveling with some rangers, but last night something happened, and today they seem to be missing. Have you happened to see them?"

The dwarves exchanged looks, "Aren't you Hobbits?" A dark-haired dwarf asked.

The four nodded.

"I thought hobbits were none for wandering about. So I've been told, at least." The dark haired dwarf scowled as he said this.

There was an awkward pause, "You haven't been told wrong, Master Dwarf, but we were attendants at the celebration of King Elessar. Now we are heading home."

This caused an uneasy rumbling among the dwarves. "Elessar. That sounds the name of an elf. And you come from the direction we are heading. Has this "celebration" taken place in Mirkwood? Have you come from there?"

The four hobbits looked surprised. Aragorn's coronation had been a grand affair, the culmination of the hope of mankind and the relief from great evil. While the four adventurers supposed that their kin in the Shire might have little knowledge of their new king, they'd been sure that the news must have spread through men, elves and dwarves alike. After all, the dwarves had sent Gimli and his father as emissaries to the council at Rivendell. Many dwarves had died trying to defend Moria, including some who'd adventured with Bilbo. Surely this group of dwarves could not be so out of touch that they didn't know of these events.

"No," Frodo said slowly, "We have come from Gondor."

The statement caused no unusual reaction from the dwarves, "The land of men?" The dark-haired one asked.

"Yes," Just how much should Frodo reveal, he wondered, "They... have just crowned a new king," hesitantly, "the news was... very widespread."

The dark haired dwarf just shrugged, "We don't have a lot to do with the race of men."

Pippin frowned, "Yes," he said, "But Gim..."

He was unable to complete the thought because of the arrival of someone all too familiar.

"Gandalf!" The surprised hobbit exclaimed, right in the middle of his sentence, "Are you traveling with these dwarves, then?"

"Young hobbits, traveling these woods. How curious. Do I know you?" The figure stepped further from the trees, a confused, thoughtful expression on his lined face. His hand reaching up to stroke his long gray beard as he leaned into his staff.

His long gray beard?

"What? Are you joking?" Pippin sputtered, indignant at being forgotten. "And for that matter, why is your beard gray again?"

"What other color would it be?" Gandalf the Gray found himself asking.

Clever Merry had come to an impossible conclusion, and was suddenly very afraid. So, "Hush Pip!" was murmured as quietly as possible, and, "You must excuse my cousin, he is light in the teaching of manners," was loud for all to hear.

Pippin scowled at his cousin, but fell silent. Merry was glad of it, for he first needed to confirm his conclusion, and then needed to be careful of what any of them said.

For how often was it that a band of thirteen dwarves traveled this part of the forest in the company of Gandalf the Gray?

The appearance of the fourteenth member of the company was all the confirmation Merry needed. It was Bilbo, looking exactly as they remembered him in the Shire, only with much less the air of confidence he'd possessed there. The hobbit was hesitant and looked nervous. He stood by the side of a young dwarf, and made no move to continue forward towards his kin.

He gave no sign of recognition, even.

In truth, Frodo and Sam too had begun to cotton on to their Merry's line of thought, but could not stop themselves from a little gasp as Bilbo appeared before them. Frodo involuntarily took a step forward, strangled noise in his throat, just barely stopping himself from calling out. He'd been anxious for some time now to get back to Rivendell and see his aged guardian once more. The ever sweet Arwen had assured him that Bilbo lived still, comfortable and content, but Frodo had lost so much. He was secretly wracked with fear that they would arrive in Rivendell to news of Bilbo's passing, just days or moments before Frodo could see him again.

Now he stood before them hale and young again, in the company of dwarves. Sam, Merry and Frodo exchanged looks of understanding. Pippin was not quite there yet, but Merry's hand on his shoulder kept him silent. This was beyond their wildest dreams. To actually have been thrown backward through time and meet their own dear Bilbo on his first adventure!

They had no idea what could have caused it, but the truth of it could not be denied.

Bilbo was the one to speak next, "Now, now," he said, "they're hobbits. Surely they are not dangerous! Why don't we put down the weapons and talk."

"They have weapons," an obstinate voice pointed out.

And so they did. One of the weapons they had, in fact, was Sting, which was fortunately still tucked away in its scabbard, hidden by Frodo's overcloak. Merry and Pippin still had their own swords at the ready.

"Here now, why don't we all put the weapons down at the same time," Bilbo continued, "They don't mean to cause us trouble, they just lost their party."

Frodo let out a breath, still unable to keep his gaze from wandering back to Bilbo, "Perhaps," he hesitated, "perhaps introductions are in order, so as to show that we aren't a threat."

Merry and Pippin put away their weapons, which caused the dwarves to relax a bit.

"I am Gandalf the Gray," Gandalf bean the introductions, "although you seem to know me already."

"I am Bilbo Baggins," Bilbo continued, "pleased to make your acquaintance."

The dwarves reluctantly lowered their weapons and stepped forward in turns.

"Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, at your service."

"Balin and Dwalin, at your service."

"Dori, Nori and Ori, at your service."

"Oin and Gloin, at your service."

"Fili and Kili, at your service."

"Thorin Oakenshield, at your service."

The four hobbits felt a thrill run through them at the introductions. How they had pictured the company when Bilbo would tell them his stories as lads, but to see them in truth! Of course, they had met a few of the dwarves, Gloin, for instance, had come to the council with Gimli. While Bilbo was at the Shire, the occasional dwarf was known to stop by on their travels, and of course, dwarves had been instrumental in setting up Bilbo's 111th birthday celebration, but they certainly hadn't met all of the company, even the surviving members. And it should be mentioned that 50 years changes a being, even one that lives as long as a dwarf. So the dwarves they had met were quite different than the bunch that stood before them.

Now it was time for their introductions. Sam went first.

"Here is Sam Gamgee. Samwise, if you must know. Pleasure to meet you."

"My name is Meriadoc Brandybuck, but please call me Merry."

"Peregrin Took is my name, but Pippin, if you please." 

At this Bilbo gave an understanding nod. A Took and a Brandybuck, no wonder they were traveling about.

It was Frodo's turn. "I am Frodo," Frodo hesitated, unsure if he should use his right name, "Frodo Underhill," he decided, "pleased to make you acquaintance."

With that, they were all dear friends, at least as far a Bilbo was concerned. He squinted up at the sky. "Dear me," he proclaimed. "We are ever so late for luncheon. Why tea has already passed at well." This diffused the last of the tension, as the dwarves chuckled, and those nearest Bilbo gave their burglar fond pats on the head.

Thorin made a decision. "Let us set up camp for the evening. Daylight will not last two more hours. Fili, Kili, go and see what you can find in these woods to eat. Dwalin, you stay with Gandalf, Bilbo and our visitors. The rest of you set up and get a fire going."

Then suddenly the dwarves scattered to do as their leader bade. Pippin offered to hunt for mushrooms and greens, at which Dwalin's face screwed up in distaste, but he allowed it so long as Pippin took along Nori. The two returned before long with arms laden with the promised items, and Bilbo offered to cook them up. Not long after, Fili and Kili returned with two rabbits and a pheasant, and they all delighted in the prospect of a good meal.

The four hobbits had, while the others were distracted with nightly preparations, held brief council. The three filled Pippin in on the fact that they were no longer in their own time, which irritated Pippin that they assumed he hadn't caught on to that earlier. Hurt feelings aside, it was decided that they would reveal as little of themselves and the future as they could at present. Merry had cemented the decision for them by wondering aloud if they could change anything, for they already knew the fate of those in the company. This appealed to them all, but Frodo had pointed out that it was vital the ring be destroyed, and Aragorn restored to his throne. If they changed the fate of these dwarves, would it not change that as well? What if instead the ring managed to find its way back to Sauron? The thought was too horrible to be entertained.

Their resolve was one thing, but over supper, the dwarves asked many questions of them and their journey, and the hobbit four found it hard to answer these questions. 

The dwarves had been generous in their hospitality, and the hobbits found themselves with full plates and skins of ale. As the meal progressed, the tension melted away, and there was much merriment. Eventually, the dwarves broke out into songs, and Merry and Pippin hopped up to dance, Kili encouraging them on, while Ori watched carefully and documented the events for safekeeping. 

Frodo hadn't been able to touch the meat this day, and was picking over the rest of his meal as Sam fussed at him. He sat quietly at the fire, across from Gandalf, Bilbo and Fili. Presently, Balin, came over and engaged Sam in conversation. 

Fili then decided to ask Frodo about his travels. He had never met a king of men. Gandalf and Bilbo listened closely.

"I can't talk about our journey much," Frodo told him truthfully, "in truth, it wasn't easy. Much happened to me, to all of us. Its changed us all, I think. When we set out, well I knew it was going to be hard, not like stories, but really it was not at all what I had expected."

Gandalf nodded his wise head at this, speaking his next words for the benefit of anyone listening. "I have lived a very long time, young hobbit. A very long time. I have traveled all over Middle Earth, and known generations of men, dwarves, hobbits and elves. In all that time, I believe I have learned nothing, perhaps, except that nothing is certain. Little turns out just how you expect, but that's what moves life forward."

They were heavy words to be spoken, and all who listened took them to heart. They hung in the air, even as conversation moved on, songs ended, bedrolls were gotten into, and sleep stole over the camp.

None knew quite what the next day would bring, but through the night, the fire crackled steadily, keeping watch over the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I do apologize. For some reason, when posting here, I have spaces appearing in odd places, and italics springing up as if just waiting for the right time. I have tried editing several times, but it does not seem to be working. I do not know even if this author's note will post, but I am trying to fix the problems.


	3. "While there is hope that they are alive, there is hope that they might be saved"

Aragorn was furious.

Four of the eight rangers who were to accompany the hobbits back to the Shire had returned with news of the disappearance and possible kidnapping of their charges. The other four had ridden ahead to Rivendell in desperate search to no avail. Gandalf had some time before made his way to Rivendell and was to meet them there to accompany the hobbits on the last leg of their journey home. When the rangers had arrived with their story of the events that had taken the hobbits, Gandalf's alarm had risen instantly. Gandalf knew of only a few possibilities for the events described, and none were good. Elrond, too, took the news gravely, understanding how serious the situation was. The two set out immediately for Gondor.

Aragorn was frantic.

He had already sent out riders to all surrounding settlements summoning all who would join in the search for the missing hobbits. Missives had been sent and posted prominently, offering rewards for the return of the small heroes or promising gravest punishment for those responsible for their disappearance. No word had yet turned up, and the worry of those who knew them mounted each day.

The Fellowship, such as remained, banded together once more. They had only just parted ways. Upon hearing the news, Gimli returned at once to Minas Tirith, bringing along his father and several other dwarves whom he'd met up with. Legolas also returned at once with several more riders from his father's kingdom. Faramir and Eowyn stood at their king's side, helping organize the search and lending whatever resources they could. Word had reached them all that Gandalf was on his way with Elrond.

The searches continued without let-up until Gandalf and Elrond reached Minas Tirith. When they arrived, the Fellowship was immediately pulled into council.

The news was not good.

"There are not many forces," Gandalf explained, "that can pluck a being out of existence in the manner we've all heard. Those forces that do exist are darkly tainted and wisely used only with caution, for they always ask something of the user."

"And you believe that such a nefarious method has been used against our hobbits?" Aragorn asked.

It was Elrond who answered. "There isn't much hope that it could be anything else, my son. My memory is very long, and Gandalf's perhaps even longer. Between us, we can only remember rumors of such an event, and all consistently bad. Unless the method is entirely new, we have to assume that evil's reach is yet long."

"Pardon me asking," Gimli spoke up, "But what does this mean? Are the lads dead, then?"

"That is one possibility," Elrond confirmed, "a strong one, it must be admitted. There are lights that bring excruciating demise in their wake. Yet such a thing is not without evidence. Something of the victim is ever left behind. Perhaps their total disappearance can give us hope of a second possibility. One in which death is not immediate. Rather, the victim is transported elsewhere."

Everyone collectively took in breath at that.

"Would that not be a much worse fate, father," Arwen's lilting voice broke the silence, "that the hobbits be delivered into the arms of evil? Should we truly hope for such a fate?"

Elrond did not smile, but his voice was softened. "'Tis so, daughter. Yet we have seen the remarkable resilience of the race of hobbits. If they have been deliberately stolen away in such a fashion, their captor wants them alive. As long as they remain alive, there is hope of their recovery."

"The ring is destroyed," Legolas pointed grimly, "The hobbits hold nothing else of value. They do not even take back with them gold or jewels. Is it merely for revenge that they have been stolen?"

"Revenge can be as powerful a drive as breathing, wood-son." Gandalf said quietly, "it corrupts the eyes and allows naught else to be seen. It is reason enough for some to sacrifice everything. However, their disappearance was highly conspicuous. There have been much more opportune times for a revenge-seeker to take them in secret and make them suffer. Whoever took them knew that it would be immediately known that the hobbits were gone. It seems likely that not just for revenge are they being held, but for collateral to hold over the heads of those who care for them."

He was looking directly at Aragorn as he spoke this, and Aragorn felt his words like a weight.

"Are we to just wait for their demands, then? Am I to hopelessly face deciding between the welfare of my people or the welfare of my friends?" Aragorn's face was twisted in despair even as Arwen's hand was curling around his in support.

"It seems so, I'm afraid," Gandalf's head was bent, the brow of his hat shading his eyes. "Although we need not sit back and wait. While there is hope that they are alive, there is hope that they might be saved. Our task now, is to find out who is responsible, and hope we are in time."

The council grew silent and thoughtful, each staring determinedly at one another. The stakes were so very high. 

"Then we shall start searching at once," Aragorn declared.

"Might I suggest, my son, that we begin in the ancient libraries? We may be able to find a glimmer of just who is left on Middle Earth that might be able to wield such an evil force."

Thus it was decided.

Aragorn was frustrated.

He wanted to march right out and retake his friends by force, but would have to wait. He prayed fervently that they found the information they were looking for quickly. He prayed even harder that somehow, somewhere, the hobbits were safe and unharmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, what few I have for this story, I am sorry for the length of time it is taking me to continue. This is a difficult one for me, because I started by writing a lovely scene between a young Bilbo and a post-war Frodo. It was from there that I slowly developed the idea for this storyline. It is to this scene that I am trying to get to. However, as you might imagine, that is a little harder than it sounds, and I have less direction than with other stories.
> 
> It may take me a long time to complete this. I've found I am not a quick writer, and I prefer to make sure the story is good, and makes sense, and has as few errors as I can muster, which can take time, especially real life circumstances. 
> 
> So to any readers who are enjoying this and don't mind being patient, I thank you, and I hope you'll enjoy each new installment. To anyone completely fed up and unhappy with the pace, I am sorry and I understand totally.


End file.
